


Love and Rain

by RosieFreebatch



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bars and Pubs, Crime Scenes, Domestic Life at 221B Baker Street, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Honeymoon, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Rain, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 18,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieFreebatch/pseuds/RosieFreebatch
Summary: An anthology of short fics featuring our two favorite idiots in love along with their friends and loved ones set during rainy days and nights. This will be a WIP, and stories will be uploaded randomly.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 46
Kudos: 56





	1. Honeymoon and a Stormy Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> For me, rain and Johnlock go together like peanut butter and jelly. I love stories with rain in them, I hope you love these.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thunderstorm at the beach does nothing to ruin Sherlock and John's happiness, it only adds to it.

John relaxed on his comfy lounge chair, sighing happily at the ocean breeze and watching the thick gray clouds roll in. The moments before a storm were always some of his favorites. When he and Harry were kids, they'd sit in their backyard during summers watching thunderstorms approach, running back into the house just before the rain poured down. Their mom wasn't a fan of their stormwatches as she didn't want them to be close to the window in case of lightning, but their dad had no problem with it and sometimes he would be outside with them.

Now, he was on his honeymoon in the Seychelles, staying in a luxury villa on a private island, courtesy of Mycroft and his connections, a gift to John and Sherlock for helping to solve a rather difficult case involving far-right extremists targeting mosques in London. It took two months, but the terrorist group had been captured, and the city breathed a collective sigh of relief. John proposed to Sherlock the night the group had been taken into custody, in the middle of a rainstorm. The detective accepted and a month later, were wed in a simple ceremony at Angelo's restaurant with friends and a few family members attending. Mycroft had surprised the couple with the Seychelles trip a week before the wedding. Three weeks, all expenses paid.

Until today the weather had been picture-perfect. The first week, Sherlock and John never left their hideaway, as it had been fully stocked with food and the two cooked their own meals, preferring to eat on their deck. They swam in the crystal blue sea, took exploring walks and found a giant sea turtle and its eggs, with Sherlock cataloging sea life and plants on his phone to study later. They loved being on their own private island and not having to answer to anyone, especially since Sherlock had developed a desire for outdoor sex. They did it on the beach, in a cave, and on their front porch. John didn't mind of course. He loved it when Sherlock got horny, and better to have a horny husband than a bored one. 

Now it was Sunday and the beginning of their second week, and what looked to be a pretty intense thunderstorm was in the works. John had taken a dip in the ocean earlier in the morning, then headed back for a nice hot shower to wash away the sand and the salt, and enjoyed a lunch of coconut fried shrimp that Sherlock had prepared. John had retired to the front porch clad in a cozy robe for some ocean watching, while Sherlock indulged in a bubble bath.

The breeze had picked up a little, sending refreshing waves over John. He could smell the sand and sea and he closed his eyes in utter bliss. He could live like this forever.

A rumble of thunder crackled, and John opened his eyes to see the sky had darkened even more. It probably wouldn't be long now until the rain appeared. He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his robe and got up to to take some pictures that he'd send to Harry later. 

"Enjoying the view?" his husband's deep baritone suddenly spoke from behind him.

John grinned and turned around to see his handsome husband also wearing a plush white robe, curls damp but combed from the bath. "Yes, from both sides."

Sherlock chuckled and took John in his arms, kissing him soundly. Once he was done he sighed and looked up at the sky. "It's going to be a pretty decent storm."

John nodded. "Want to watch it with me? And then later I'll make us dinner. We've got some steaks in the fridge, I could use that marinade and we have the grill on the deck."

"Mmm, sounds delicious, and we have ingredients to make a nice salad, along with that bottle of Chateau that we really need to open..."

John stood up to kiss Sherlock. "Perfect."

Just then a bolt of purple lighting lit up the sky and raindrops fell onto the newlyweds. John took Sherlock's hand and the two sat down in their lounge chairs under the porch roof. The raindrops turned into sheets, thunder rumbled, and occasionally lightning lit up the sky. The sounds of the storm combined with the pounding ocean waves made for some very lovely white noise, and it wasn't long before the two gave into slumber, Sherlock's hand covering John's hand that was resting on his chest.


	2. Rainy Night at the Pub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Greg spend an evening together talking about their love lives.

It was drizzling when John entered the pub, dark blue eyes searching around for Greg. He spotted him at small round table in a cozy corner and began to walk over. "Hey Greg," he warmly greeted him with a smile.

"Hey John. I've only been here a minute. Not too crowded tonight." John sat on the stool. "I think the weather is keeping people away. It's a cool dreary night, even for September, and it's a Thursday, so no matches on telly."

"Sherlock doesn't mind you being here?" Greg asked with a wink. John laughed. "Not at all. He and Rosie were making homemade bath paint when I left. Those two will have a good time, and then Sherlock will test the paint when it's time for her bath."

A waitress came over to take their order. "I'll have a pint of Guinness and an order of chips," Greg said. "John, what do you want?" "I'll have a pint of Guinness too," John replied.

The waitress smiled and left to get their drinks. "You know John, I'm so glad you and Sherlock finally got your heads out of your arses and finally got together. The sexual tension on crime scenes was so thick you could have cut it with a chainsaw."

John shot his friend a rueful glance. "Yeah, more me than him you know. After Mary, I was so out of it. It took months of therapy for me to realize how much anger was inside of me. And it all stemmed back to my childhood. Having an alcoholic, homophobic father really messes with your head and your heart. After what happened with Harry, I vowed that wasn't going to be me. That's why I left right after I finished sixth form and never looked back. If my mum was still there I probably would have stayed, but at least she was able to get away. Harry and I had to rough it out for a few more years. I felt like I couldn't trust anyone. Hell, I couldn't even trust myself. But now, things are great. Sherlock is a great dad to Rosie, and a great partner. We still have our tumbles, but it's nothing major and we always promise each other not to go to bed mad."

"That's great John. If anyone deserves happiness, it's you two," Greg said with a grin. The waitress brought their pints over, and Greg raised his glass. "Let's have a toast. To friendship, to great romantic partners, and to this beer."

John laughed and raised his glass. "Here here. And let's toast you and Molly. I'm glad you finally got together." The two men clinked glasses and took a big swig of beer. "Fuck that's good," John said. "Been a while."

Greg sat back with a sigh of content. "I still can't believe Molly and I...I mean I always liked her as a friend and a colleague, but I never thought we would end up as a couple. She'd been hung up on Sherlock for years, and I was trapped in a shitty marriage I didn't think I'd escape. Then finally, Jill decided she wanted out. I was so happy I didn't even fight her on custody. If the kids wanted to be with her and that loser gym teacher, so be it."

John took another sip before replying. "You haven't seen the kids since the divorce?"

"Oh I've seen them, and they decided they didn't want to live with their mom and her boyfriend. My sister agreed to take them in. Wasn't a hard decision as she's been widowed for a while and was getting lonely, and she loves her niece and nephew. They're happy, and I visit them when I'm off work. Jill didn't fight it, she really wasn't much of mum in my opinion. And they like Molly, always have, so everyone wins."

"Isn't it great that life is finally working out for all of us?" John remarked.

"Makes getting up in the morning and going to bed at night much less stressful. Now if I could just sort out Donovan...." Greg answered with a chuckle.

"She's almost there Greg. Now that Anderson decided to take that job in Wales, even she's a bit easier to get along with. She's not a bad person. I can't imagine it's a cakewalk being a woman and a minority at the Yard," John mused.

"Well that's certainly true. And she's been on a few dates with Mike's new assistant so maybe things are looking up for her like they are for us."

The waitress brought the basket of chips over. "Mmm, I can't wait to dig into these. My lunch was a bland can of tomato soup. Want one?" Greg offered.

John shook his head. "Thanks, but I ate before I left. I made chicken curry and I'm full. With Rosie here, we've been having more meals at home. I like cooking, and Sherlock has been great at eating at least two meals a day. He's put on some weight and looks so much healthier."

"You've really done him a world of good John. As well as Rosie." John smiled at the thought of his detective and his daughter. "Sherlock loves her so much, and Rosie adores her "Papa Sherwock," that's what she calls him. He's really good at teaching her things. It's funny, he rarely has patience for adults, but he's got all the patience and time in the world for her. I think it's because unlike a lot of adults, she doesn't cut him down and loves him for him. And she's so curious about everything."

Greg swallowed a chip and took a drink. "Rosie is adorable. I know I've seen Molly looking at her and she gets this wistful look on her face. I think she wants to eventually have a child. We're too early in our relationship to even think about discussing kids, but one day it will come up."

"Yours are almost teenagers Greg, do you really want to be chasing after a baby at this stage in your life?" John asked.

"Sometimes I think how nice it would be to have a fresh start with a new one, especially with a woman as sweet and low maintenance as Molly. But like I said, we're not ready to go down that route yet."

John drained the last of his drink. "I think I'll have one more, than I'll hit the road. The drizzle is supposed to turn into a downpour, with heavy rain off and on all night. I brought my umbrella, but I'd rather not be a drowned rat."

The waitress came over and took another order for pints for both men. Greg finished all but a few chips. "Now I know why I don't eat chips all the time." He patted his stomach and let out a small burp.

John chuckled. "Yeah, chips are a rare treat for me. Now Angelo's lasagna and breadsticks on the other hand, those are my guilty pleasures, especially since we never pay when we eat there."

The two men chatted and drank for the next hour, and both men decided it was time to call it an evening and head for their respective homes. They planned another get together in a couple of weeks, and each said their goodbyes. It was raining more steadily now when John stepped into the street. He opened his umbrella, but to his surprise, a cab stopped in front of him.

"Taxi sir?" the cabbie asked pleasantly. John nodded and closed his umbrella, getting in the back. "Where to sir?" the cabbie inquired. "221 Baker Street," John answered.

He sighed and sat back, the sound of the rain and the windshield wipers making for a relaxing combination of noise. Just then, John's phone pinged. He took it out of his pocket and saw it was a text from Sherlock. He smiled and opened it. It was a selfie of him and Rosie. The little girl was in the tub, streaks of purple and blue paint all over her face. She was grinning from ear to ear, and Sherlock was sitting next to her on the floor, a goofy grin on his face. _Hope you're coming home soon, we miss you,_ it said under the picture.

 _I'm in a cab now, be home in just a few. Love you_ , John typed.

 _Love you too, and so does Rosie,_ came Sherlock's reply.

It began to rain harder, but John didn't care. Not when he had a warm flat, a loving mate, and an adorable daughter waiting for him. Yes, things were finally working out, and it was great.


	3. Taking Care of John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock tends to a sick John and the two make some major decisions about their lives.

Sherlock had just finished cleaning his lab over at 221C and was back in the flat, about to make a cup of tea when he heard a knock at the door. He opened it to reveal Valerie, the receptionist at John's surgery---and John at her side, looking extremely fatigued.

"John! What's the matter? Are you sick?" Sherlock asked, worried.

John nodded. "Sinus infection. They sent me home," he replied weakly. "I was feeling fine this morning when I left but I started getting worse as time went on."

"Dennis came into his office to ask him if he wanted takeout and saw John was pale and clammy. He took his temperature, he had a fever of 99.9. We started him on antibiotics and told him to stay home the rest of the week. I offered to drive him back here, he was in no condition for the tube. Dennis and Lucy will be covering John's patients. Good thing it's a light load this week and it's summer."

"Thank you Valerie for bringing him home. I'll make sure he gets plenty of rest and fluids," Sherlock promised.

"No problem Sherlock." Valerie turned to John. "Now don't be stubborn. Take your meds and do what Sherlock tells you to do. He's a smart cookie," she gently chided him.

"Don't I know it," John said.

Valerie nodded to the two men and left. Sherlock wrapped an arm around John and led him inside. "Come on, let's get you into your pajamas and into bed and I'll make us some tea."

"Tea sounds great. Do we still have honey?" John asked.

"We do, and I'll put an extra dollup into your mug."

A rumble of thunder boomed outside, and soon rain was pelting on the windows. "It's going to be storming all afternoon and into this evening, perfect time to be in bed resting," Sherlock said.

The detective undressed his blogger, and John picked out his RAMC shirt and a pair of boxers to wear. Sherlock helped him into his clothes and got him into bed, fluffing up pillows. He gently placed the back of his hand on John's forehead. "It doesn't feel too hot, so your fever must have went down a bit."

John nodded. "Yeah, I felt that too. I'm just so achy and tired."

Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's hair. "Have you had many patients with a sinus infection?"

"Not that I can recall, but one of our PA's came down with one, that's probably where I caught it."

"Well, we'll get you right as rain in the next few days. Now, let me make that tea." Sherlock kissed John on his forehead and left for the kitchen. John sighed and settled back onto the pillows, the sound of the summer storm outside lulling him to sleep.

******

John awoke to Sherlock laying next to him. He stretched and yawned, discovering how dry and sore his mouth was. Before he could ask for some water, Sherlock smiled and reached over to pick up a glass of ice water sitting on a tray, next to a plate of yellow colored cake. "Here, take a nice long sip," Sherlock murmured. I figured you'd rather have the water than hot tea."

"Thank you," John replied hoarsely. He took a drink and sighed with relief after the cool fresh water coated his throat. "What's that on the plate, looks like cake."

"Mrs. Hudson made some lemon poppyseed loaves for her erotic book club and gave one to us," Sherlock said with a grin.

John laughed, then cleared his throat. "Erotic book club? Leave it to Mrs. Hudson to join a group like that. I'm sure she's loving every minute of it."

Sherlock picked up the plate. "Take a bite, it's delicious." John opened his mouth and Sherlock lovingly fed him the cake. "Mmm, that's wonderful," John said after he finished it. "May I have the rest of the water?"

"Certainly," Sherlock said. John drained the glass than lay back onto the pillows. "That hit the spot."

"When do you take your next round of antibiotics?" Sherlock asked.

"It's every eight hours. I took my first pill at 12:30," John explained. Sherlock looked at his watch. "It's only three-thirty, so you don't take it until eight-thirty. Which means plenty of time for rest."

"Will you stay with me?" John asked, a little sheepishly. He was a little embarrassed to want Sherlock being with him. He had been an Army captain, he'd seen death and destruction, and now he was asking his boyfriend to keep him company because he had a little infection.

"Don't be embarrassed John. You're not feeling well and I want to take care of you, I love you." He pressed a kiss to his blogger's hair. "And I could do with a nap myself. Before you came home I was in my lab conducting an experiment that was very time consuming and tiring." 

"Thanks Sherlock, I love you too," John answered, rewarding the detective with a gentle peck on the cheek.

Sherlock wrapped his long arms around John. "Sleep, my handsome doctor. You'll feel better in no time and you'll soon be back to treating runny noses and upset stomachs."

John chuckled. "Can't wait." Then his face turned pensive. "I told my boss today I was taking her offer to go part time. I'll only be working two days a week, Tuesday and Thursday, from nine to two. They're bringing on a new GP. He's young, single, no kids, and wants the hours. I'm happy to pull back, if that's okay with you."

Sherlock held John tighter. "Of course that's okay with me. I've been wanting you home with me more for a long time, but I didn't want to say anything because I know how much you like feeling as useful as possible."

"Thanks love. But I'm ready to scale back now. It took me a while to realize that I'm just as useful at home with you then working five days a week for eight to nine hours and coming home completely knackered everyday."

Sherlock kissed his ear. "You are useful to me at home. You're the only one that can quiet my mind and keep my focus sharp and clear. I work better with you. And I've also been thinking, that maybe it's time to stop working with the Yard, and go completely private."

John turned to him, startled. "You're not serious."

Sherlock nodded. "I am. I know what you're going to say, that I'll be bored out of my skull not running after criminals in London, or examining bodies at crime scenes, but trust me I won't. I have my lab to conduct experiments. And it's about time I started enjoying more of what London has to offer in the daytime. There's so much to do and see John. Combine that with taking on private cases of our choosing, we'll still have a full life. Before I met you, there was so much lacking in my life. Now there isn't. I'm the happiest I've ever been."

John fought back a tear. "Oh Sherlock. You wonderfully ridiculous man. I love you so much."

Sherlock smiled and kissed John lightly on the lips. "I love you too. Now, let's get some sleep so we can wake up in time for dinner. Does chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sound okay?"

John kissed Sherlock back. "It's more than okay."

As the two let sleep overtake them, it continued to storm, as if the rain was washing away the dirt and grime of their old life together, replacing it with a new and clean fresh life together.


	4. A Little Rain and a Little Bespoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Watson-Holmes trio gains a new family member.

Rain was lightly falling and the air was brisk. It was mid November, and John and Rosie were visiting their friend Chris, who ran a nonprofit cat rescue agency out of his home, The Paws Palace. John had quit working at the surgery and spent three half days a week volunteering for the organization, doing intakes on new cats and taking pictures of them for their website. He and Sherlock had discussed adopting a rescue kitten so Rosie, now four and a half, could learn responsibility in taking care of an animal. Rosie had asked for a puppy for her upcoming birthday in January, but Mrs. Hudson didn't want dogs in the building. She was perfectly fine with cats though, so a compromise was reached.

The latest litter of kittens that Chris and his staff took in were now eight weeks old and ready for adoption. Chris had promised one to Rosie, and she and John were there to pick it up. John and Sherlock agreed not to wait for Rosie's birthday to get their new family member, instead it would be an early Christmas present.

Chris took John and Rosie into an old bedroom used as a fostering space, and there were seven kittens, in all shades of ginger, zooming around the room. Rosie had her eye on an all orange kitten with subtle stripes that made her look like a tiny tiger. The kittens' mom, a beautiful orange and white cat, lay on a blanket observing her clowder of energetic kits.

"I'm so happy John. We found adopters for all the kittens and their mom. This little family has been so popular online and captured a lot of hearts. And just in time, because Monday we're getting a new momcat, vet says she's carrying four to five kittens, so we've got extra time to care for her," Chris said.

"I can't wait to meet her," John replied. I've really been enjoying helping out here. It's so rewarding seeing these critters getting a second chance at life and going to homes where they'll be loved and cherished."

Rosie got down on the floor and the kittens immediately ran over to her, crawling in her lap, all competing for attention. The little girl giggled as she petted the squirmy babies. "Silly kitties," she said. It wasn't long before mama cat followed, settling down next to Rosie's left side, closing her eyes.

"Your daughter is going to be a good little cat mommy," Chris remarked.

"Sherlock and I have been preparing her. Sherlock's been reading online articles about kitten care, and me volunteering here, I've picked up so much information. He's looking forward to having a new pet in the house as much as Rosie."

Chris and John continued to make small talk as Chris prepared an adoption gift basket which included food, toys, and blankets. Soon John and Rosie were on their way home in Mrs. Hudson's sportscar, with a box that contained their new kitten perched carefully in Rosie's lap.

"Have you thought of a name for her?" John asked his daughter.

Rosie nodded. "Her name is Bespoke."

John did a double take? "Bespoke? How on earth did you come up with that?"

"'Cause you're always telling Papa how good he looks in his bespoke suits, and that Papa wants to get you a bespoke suit too because he'd love to see you in one. So bespoke must be a really nice thing, and I want our kitten to be nice and bespoke too," Rosie answered brightly.

John couldn't help but laugh at the sweet logic of his little girl. In a way it made sense, and he was sure Sherlock would get a kick out of it. "I think it's a nice name Ro. It'll definitely fit in our household that's for sure."

The light rain had become a deluge as soon as John, Rosie, and Bespoke got inside the hallway of 221 Baker St. "Just in time," John murmured.

"Yeah, that's a lot of rain daddy," Rosie said. 

John carried the goodie basket and Rosie delicately carried the box with little Bespoke up the stairs. Sherlock was right there to meet them. Neither John or Rosie said anything, they were used to Sherlock's uncanny way of knowing when they were at the door.

Sherlock smiled at his husband and daughter then looked at the box. "Let's meet the newest member of the family," he told them.

The two entered the flat. Rosie sat the box down and opened the lid, gently picking up the kitten. "Isn't she pretty Papa? Her name is Bespoke Watson-Holmes."

Sherlock looked at John for clarification. "Rosie named her. She overheard me telling you how good you look in your bespoke suits and that you want to get me my own bespoke suit, and she thinks bespoke is a happy word."

Sherlock bent down and grinned, kissing Rosie on the cheek. "Good choice honeybee. Bespoke is a good word. It means custom made. Like this kitten was custom made for our family."

"Maybe we can call her Bessie as a nickname?" John suggested.

"Oh I like that Daddy," Rosie said, cuddling the kitten.

And the rest of the rainy day was spent playing and enjoying the newest member of the Watson-Holmes clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by a real-life ginger kitten named Bespoke. There is a YouTube channel called Kitten Academy, an organization run by a husband and his wife in their Connecticut home. They specialize in taking in pregnant cats from shelters, caring for mom and kittens, and getting them socialized so they can be adopted. Each cat family is named after a specific theme, and Bespoke,her siblings, and mom were all given "hipster names" (not sure how bespoke fits into that category unless they think hipsters prefer not to buy clothes off the rack). Anyway, they're cute and precious and I'm sure Sherlock would have loved it.


	5. A Wet and Happy Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are enjoying retirement with bees and gardening and fishing.

The detective and the blogger shocked no one when they retired after the case that nearly cost John his life. The two had married a year after John annulled his marriage to Mary, whose real identity was one Rosamund Marian Moran, sister to Moriarty's right hand man Sebastian Moran, who ironically enough was in John's army unit.

Rosamund and Sebastian were two of the trained snipers prepared to kill John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson the fateful day Sherlock jumped. The deadly siblings teamed up to get rid of Sherlock once and for all but John thwarted them, putting a bullet in Sebastian's brain and wounding his traitorous wife in the left shoulder (a kind of weird karma John would later say). Mrs. Watson had retaliated by shooting John in the chest and escaped, but was caught and shot by Anthea. The assasin had been treated and subsequently imprisoned at Sherrinford, and John almost died on the way to the hospital but miraculously revived, a fighter to the end.

Sherlock decided after John came home they were done. John agreed and the two announced their retirement from crime fighting. Sherlock's late uncle Rudy had left his favorite nephew his seaside cottage to him in his will, and the two decided to live there permanently. 

The home was a three bedroom cottage called The Boathouse, located in the coastal town of Spittal Creetown. It was an isolated property located on the Cree River Estuary, with plenty of outdoor space for raising bees. John loved the waterfront and was delighted to learn as homeowner he held the fishing rights on the estuary, so he could fish whenever he wanted. The town was close to the charming village of Newton Stewart which had all the amenities Sherlock and John needed. It took several months for them to fix it up how they liked but finally they could call it home.

One bedroom was turned into a lab for Sherlock and another served as a guestroom in case Mrs. Hudson or Harry and Clara or Mycroft or Greg wanted to come for an overnight visit.

The two had taken quickly to quiet seaside living. Sherlock was ecstatic with his own lab and being a bee farmer. John fished, and began to write a book about their cases. Life was grand.

******

John returned home from a successful morning of fishing. It had started to rain, and John went to the kitchen to begin cleaning and gutting the perch so he could refrigerate them for dinner later. John found preparing the fish relaxing. Most people would balk at the activity, but after years of stitching up and treating combat wounds, scaling and gutting fish was like child's play.

John turned on the radio, Day in the Life by The Beatles was playing. He began to sing along as he cleaned down the center island, laid his fish out, and got his supplies.

The rain outside turned heavier and hit the windows. John gazed out at the gray skies and the water through the raindrops. He felt at ease, at peace. A rainy day here was more cheerful than in London. 

Sherlock entered and smiled at his husband. He was happy to see John in a good mood doing what he loved. John had become an excellent fisherman and loved the seafood dinners he prepared. 

John caught Sherlock's glance and smiled back. "Hi love. How are the bees today?"

Sherlock moved to give John a kiss. "Active, happy, and safe and dry in their hives. We're going to have a good harvest this year."

"Wonderful. I can't wait to taste the honey they'll produce." John ruffled Sherlock's curls and resumed his work.

"What dish are you planning tonight?" Sherlock asked as he reached into a drawer reserved for menus. "I thought we could do takeout for lunch at the sandwich shop in Newton."

"Pan seared perch over rice with steamed broccoli, and lemon sorbet for dessert," John replied brightly. I found the recipe online and it sounded heavenly."

Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's hair. "You spoil me with these meals. I'm almost beginning to miss Angelo's lasagna."

John laughed. "I love cooking for you and feeding you up. You're looking better than ever love."

"I'm feeling better too. Moving here was the best decision. There was a time I thought I'd die of boredom but I'm happy to accept I was wrong. I've got my experiments, I have my bees, and best of all, I have you right by my side. It's a miracle you're here standing in this kitchen. If I had lost you---"

John wiped his hands and took Sherlock in his arms, silencing him with a kiss. "No more of those thoughts. I'm here. We don't have to worry about the murderers, the psychos, the assassins anymore. All we need to think about is what our three meals a day will be, the bees, the shopping, chores, and loving each other."

Sherlock held his blogger tightly. "You're right. I never thought thinking about mundane routines would feel so good."

John laughed and kissed Sherlock again. "How about you order us lunch, I'll finish up the fish, and then we relax with a nice warm bath in our soaking tub and then have a nap before dinner?"

Sherlock smirked. _"Or,_ we could have a nice warm bath and then I make love to you followed by a nap before dinner?"

John shivered. "Mmm, your idea sounds much better."

And so, the retired detective and his retired doctor/ blogger and conductor of light did just that on this wet and most definitely happy Wednesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The house Sherlock and John retire to is real, currently for sale, and looks like an amazing place to live. I live very close to the water and there's something relaxing about it that I really can't describe.


	6. Cold Rain and Cold Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gruesome crime scene, a cold rainy evening, in other words, a typical night for the Yard and our two boys. But it's John that cracks the case!

It was mid January, a week after Sherlock's 40th birthday, and six-thirty in the evening. It was also raining steadily, a cold raw rain that sank into bones and irritated old wounds and sore joints. It was the rain John hated the most because it reactivated the ache in his left shoulder, reminding him of when he got shot in Afghanistan. He was so looking forward to his holiday with Sherlock to Florida at the end of the month. Mrs. Hudson had bequeathed them a beach house in Miami that she owned but no longer wanted as it reminded her of her abusive marriage to the late and not great Frank Hudson. Sherlock and John jumped at the chance to have a separate place they could escape to when London got too much, even if it was on another continent. If she had asked the detective and the doctor two years ago, they would have turned her down, but now, after Sherrinford, after Mary, after a baby that turned out not to be John's, they needed a far away retreat more than ever.

John wondered if it was raining in Miami, and even if it was, it certainly wasn't the chilly, painful kind. He welcomed a warm rain, especially if it involved palm trees and a vast blue ocean. But for now, he was standing in a classroom at Beacham Primary Prep, a private school in the heart of a wealthy London district, looking down at the body of early years teacher Cynthia Delbridge, a once attractive thirty-year old with curly strawberry blond hair and a face full of freckles, now lying on the floor near her desk, nineteen stab wounds the reason for the loss of her life. Blood was on the chalkboard, on the floor, and on the walls near the desk. It had been a horrific murder.

While Sherlock was yelling at Anderson for something John wasn't entirely sure, as it was Anderson and he was a person you just yelled at, John studied the body. The stab wounds were mostly to her chest and stomach, and the teacher had defensive wounds on the palms of her hands and wrists, so she fought her attacker and tried to shield herself from the stab. The murder weapon wasn't found, so either the killer brought it with them or found it somewhere in the school, perhaps in the kitchen. If they found the knife, maybe they worked at the school. 

John immediately sensed it was a personal attack. Most people who stab their victims to death know their victims. Who would want to brutally knife a teacher to death? An angry parent? A disgruntled co-worker? The night janitors were the one that found her body after reporting to the school for their shift at five-thirty. The school day had ended at three, so the murder had taken place between three and five-thirty. Nobody was in the school when they arrived. 

He thought about who might be in the school after three. Maybe a few teachers that stayed around to grade papers or clean up classrooms, the headmaster, secretaries...

John bent down to take a closer look at the body. He could hear the rain pounding against the windows and Sherlock now insulting Donovan for her continued choice to sleep with married Anderson. He blocked all that out. He may not have had a mind palace like his husband, but he had enough intelligence to look for small details. The body hadn't been moved yet by police. 

He carefully glanced at the corpse, and the small area surrounding it. Within a minute he spotted something gold and black on the floor, tucked under an blue ethernet cord that ran across the length of the floor underneath the chalkboard. He removed a clean handkerchief from his jacket pocket and scooped up the item. Upon closer inspection he saw it was a button attached to a torn piece of black fabric. Cynthia had fought with the killer and obviously tore the button so hard some of the clothing of the killer's came with it. The button was small and the black fabric silky in texture. A piece of woman's clothing?

John stood up and walked over to Lestrade, Sherlock, Donovan, and Anderson. "I found this underneath the chalkboard caught underneath an ethernet cable. I think our victim tore this off the killer during a struggle, and I believe this comes from a woman's blouse. We need to get the janitors back in here to see if they recognize this, it could be from one of the female employees."

Sherlock looked at John in astonishment. "Brilliant!" he cried. Then he turned to Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson, narrowing his blue-green eyes in annoyance. "Of course, you incompetent lot couldn't find this clue. You're too busy chastising and insulting me to really work this crime scene."

Donovan began to open her mouth to argue, but John waved her off. "We can't waste anymore time fighting each other. Greg, can you find those janitors please?"

The DI left the classroom. Sherlock continued to gaze at his blogger lovingly. Donovan and Anderson just shook their heads. John smiled back at Sherlock. "I have my moments every now and then," he joked.

It was a tense five minutes with no one saying anything, then Lestrade walked in with the janitors. John showed the two men the button. "Do any of you recognize this?"

The janitors studied it closely. One's eyes opened wide in recognition, and his face turned pale. "Yes sir. I'm pretty sure that button is from Ms. Clarkson's blouse. Greta Clarkson, she's the front office secretary. She was wearing a black blouse today. "Oh God, you don't think she did this? But why?"

"Barry, you remember all those rumors the teachers were sayin', that she and Headmaster Jeffries were gettin' it on while at the same time he was datin' Miss Cindy?" the other janitor, with the name tag of Lewis, said. "Maybe she was tired of him runnin' around on her."

"Thanks for your help gentlemen. Let's get the address for Ms. Clarkson and pay her a visit," Lestrade said. He turned to John. "If this pans out John, you've solved your first murder."

"It was nothing Greg. All I did was find a clue. Barry and Lewis provided what we really needed, a possible motive. If I hadn't found it, Sherlock would have and immediately deduced what happened." John replied modestly.

Sherlock turned away to blush. John always downplayed his intelligence. Even though Sherlock sometimes made fun of him "for not keeping up," his husband was so much less of an idiot than the general public. "John, let's go home, I think the Yard can take it from here, and I'm starving. Angelo's?"

John just grinned. "You got it."

The two men said their goodbyes to Lestrade and promised them they'd come to the station tomorrow to make statements. They decided to take the tube this time, as they didn't want to wait in the rain for a taxi, and they were soon on their way to Angelo's, and back to domestic bliss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named the murder victim after one of my favorite Johnlock authors here, cdelbridge. She posts some wacky, funny fics. Check her out!


	7. Dinner and a Movie and a Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stormy summer evening keeps the two lovebirds inside the flat.

The storm built in slowly, taking its sweet old time before unleashing a torrent of rain along with booming thunder and crackling lightning over London. Inside 221 B Baker Street, Sherlock and John paid it no mind as the two enjoyed a meal of shrimp fra diavolo from Angelo's that John had picked up after his surgery shift. A candle was on the table, along with a bottle of white wine, and classical music was playing from the kitchen radio.

The sounds of the summer evening storm only added to the relaxing atmosphere of the flat as the two ate and talked about their day. John's shift wasn't that busy and he spent most of the day catching up on paperwork for which he was grateful for. Sherlock solved some cold cases Lestrade had sent over. The detective was recovering from a migraine that had rendered him unable to do anything but lay in his bedroom in darkness for most of last night. John had given him a pain pill, an ice pack, and slept in his old room to give his husband the most comfort he could, but Sherlock had called for John to join him. John had returned, laying next to Sherlock and gently massaging his head. Slowly but surely, the migraine dissipated and both men were able to get several decent hours of sleep. Sherlock decided to stay in the next day and called Lestrade to see if he had any old cases that needed attention. The DI was happy for his help. 

The two had finished dinner and John decided he'd do the washing up, wanting his spouse to rest on the couch. Sherlock wanted the two of them to watch a movie together he would pick. When John suggested months ago they should stay in one evening a month and do a dinner and movie night, Sherlock had balked at first, because John typically chose Bond movies or old war films he had no interest in. Sherlock wasn't a movie fan in general, he preferred crime and science documentaries. The two compromised, with John choosing a movie one month and Sherlock the next.

This time it was Sherlock's choice, and he sat on the couch going through the list of movies on their streaming service. One title called "Coma" peaked his interest. After reading the caption, he decided this was the movie they'd watch. He had read some old medical thriller novels John had in his collection and liked them. 

John had gone into their bedroom to change into a pair of sweats and a shirt with a football logo on it as Sherlock had stayed in his dressing gown and pajamas all day. He joined his spouse on the couch. "Did you pick our movie love?"

Sherlock nodded. It's a medical mystery called Coma. The synopsis looked interesting. "

"I've seen it, but it's been a long time ago. It'll be nice to watch it with you. You'll probably discover what's going on quickly."

John snuggled close to Sherlock as he pushed play on the remote. And the detective did figure out what was going on, but unlike other movies he wasn't bored doing it. John was happy Sherlock liked the movie and that he was feeling better.

Right after the movie ended the power went out. Unfazed, the two went to bed, oil lamps lighting their peaceful slumber as the storm finally dwindled away to quiet light rain. 


	8. Thank You Francis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A major storm extends Sherlock and John's holiday. They don't mind it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With tropical storm Isaisis expected to come through my area tomorrow, I thought it would be fitting to have the boys experience one too. In the UK, Francis is the name of the next storm that forms there.

The outdoor furniture was secured, phones and laptops were charged, and John had put fresh batteries in the portable radio. He and Sherlock were at Mycroft's Brighton home on holiday. They were supposed to leave tomorrow to return to Baker Street, but thanks to the storm named Francis that was expected to blow through the coast, the town officials had asked those right on the shore to evacuate if they could, and those inland to shelter in place.

John had called Mycroft, who was on a holiday of his own with Greg in France, to tell him of the impending storm and that he and Sherlock weren't allowed to leave, and they battened down the hatches. Mycroft thanked them and told them to be safe.

The two had gone into town and gotten some supplies, some non-perishable food, and water in case there would be a power outage. Mycroft had a generator but they weren't taking any chances. Satisfied they had everything they needed to ride out the storm, the husbands relaxed and were snuggled up together in their spacious bedroom. Sherlock was watching a beekeeping documentary on his laptop and John was watching an episode of Doctor Who on his phone. Crackling logs were in the fireplace, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. Outside, it had started to rain and the wind was blowing gently.

Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Mike, Sherlock's parents and Harry had texted them earlier to make sure they were okay and they all assured the couple they were fine too. 

"It's so nice we have friends and family who care about us," John remarked. 

Sherlock couldn't help but smile. "Never thought there'd be a day I could say I would have friends checking up on me."

A hint of sadness crossed John's face but then he smiled. "Well those days are over." He picked up Sherlock's hand and kissed it.

Sherlock smiled again. "And for that I'm I'm extremely grateful." He leaned over and softly kissed John.

John never thought he'd give thanks for a dangerous storm but he was. He and Sherlock were happily wed, they were staying in a beautiful home courtesy of Mycroft that they could enjoy for another two days and they had people who cared about them. They couldn't ask for anything else. John was never more glad for the rain as he was now. Sherlock must have felt the same way, as he turned off his laptop, put it on the floor, and reached for John to give him a warm and loving embrace.


	9. Campus Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are college students who live together and love together. One rainy afternoon finds them in their dorm doing nothing but cuddling and snuggling.

It had been an intense five days at St. Bart's. It was exam week, the last week before the university closed for fall break. It was a Friday afternoon in November, a cool cloudy one with showers popping up off and on. Many students had already left campus to return to their respective homes, leaving the school a lot more quiet than it had been, and that suited Sherlock and John just fine. The boyfriends and roommates were planning to spend the first week of break staying at St. Bart's, while exploring London. The second week they would go back to see their families before returning to school to finish out the semester before the Christmas holiday.

Sherlock, double majoring in chemistry and criminal justice, and John, a sports medicine major who wanted to become a physical therapist specializing in treating athletes, were in their large dorm room cuddling together on top of their bed. The two had each finished a rather physically and mentally exhausting exam that left them drained. Both boys returned home exhausted and fell onto the bed, not even bothering to take their socks and shoes off. Eventually after a few minutes of getting their bearings, they did remove their footwear and changed into comfortable clothes. Sherlock had his dressing gown and pajamas on while John wore a shirt with the St. Bart's rugby team that he played for, and a pair of soft black sweatpants. It wasn't long before the two succumbed to sleep, with Sherlock dreaming of elements and symbols while John dreamed about playing rugby on a field where his opponents were wearing jerseys with the names of different pain medicines on them.

******

John awoke and smiled at seeing Sherlock already awake and smiling softly at him. "Good afternoon," Sherlock greeted him, before kissing him gently. "Feel better?"

John grinned, stretched and yawned. "Yeah. That nap is just what I needed. My brain felt like it was disintegrating into jelly. But I'm pretty sure I aced that final."

Sherlock wrapped his long arms around John and pressed a kiss to his hair. "I know I passed mine."

John laughed. "Of course you did, you're a genius. Chemistry comes easy to you. It wasn't my best subject but at least I passed, thanks to your help."

"No it wasn't, but you definitely know your drugs and their side effects. You were a great assist to me in my presentation of why metformin should not always be the go to medicine to prescribe to Type II diabetics." Sherlock hugged him tighter. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life John. When I first stepped foot here I didn't think I'd ever find a friend. I especially didn't think I'd find someone to love either. Then again, I wasn't looking for either when I stepped foot on campus, I just wanted to focus on my studies."

John laid his head up against Sherlock's chin. "The only things I wanted to do were to join the rugby team and major in medicine. I wasn't interested in the social scene either. But if it wasn't for Molly insisting I attend that mixer I probably would have never met you. Best night of my life."

Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's blond head. "It was the best night of my life too." 

As the two fell asleep, warm and dry in each other's arms, the showers outside turned heavy, and sheets of rain pelted against the windows. 


	10. Warm and Dry in Mike's RV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys enjoy a bank holiday camping in a RV.

When John brought up the idea of a camping trip on the extended bank holiday, Sherlock wasn't interested. Until Mike Stamford rolled up outside Baker Street in a huge white and blue RV and said the two could borrow it, but firmly warned Sherlock no experiments were to be done in it.

John beamed as Sherlock excitedly toured the camper. It had a sitting area with a flat screen TV, a cooktop area, with a tea kettle, fridge, freezer, large bedroom and a toilet and shower. Impressed, he turned to his husband and said, "I think I was wrong about camping."

John kissed him and laughed. "You were expecting us to rough it a tent with sleeping bags, going in the woods, and cooking meat over a fire. I wouldn't do that to you. And I had enough of roughing it in Afghanistan. Nope, its it's luxury accommodations for my luxurious man."

Mike could only grin at the two idiots.

*****

They arrived at their destination early Friday evening, a secluded old campground outside of London with a large lake in the middle of the property. It was still on decent shape but passed over for a newly built campground an hour away that had a mini golf course and two pools. Sherlock was grateful for the quiet, which is why John chose the place.

John had brought the awning out and the two sat under it, talking, laughing and drinking tea, enjoying the solitude, the only sounds being them, and the birds singing in the trees.

*****

A rumble of thunder was heard in the distance as Sherlock and John closed the door behind them. "Nothing like a spring storm in a quiet forest," John said. Reminds me of when my dad and I went camping one summer and a dandy of a storm came through. Thought the tent would collapse in the wind but it held on. I was snuggled inside my sleeping bag munching popcorn while Dad told spooky stories."

John sat on the sofa with Sherlock following.The detective put an arm around his spouse and smiled. "Mycroft and I got caught in a storm while we were playing pirates on the beach in Sussex. He hated getting wet but I loved it. Having the rain beat down on me felt freeing and refreshing."

After Sherlock stopped speaking, there was another clap of thunder that sounded like it was right under the RV, and then the rain began to fall hard from the gray sky.

*****

The storm continued all through their dinner of beef stew, and by the time the thunder and lightning ended and all that was left was steady rain, the two were safe and warm in bed, watching a bee documentary on Sherlock's phone. So far the start to their holiday had been a wet, albeit happy one, and dreams of kissing each other on a Sussex beach while a warm summer rain descended from above and a sea breeze gently whipped around them, soon joined the husbands as they slept soundly into the night. 


	11. Rosie's Stormy Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thunderstorms force a change of plans to Rosie's outdoor plans. Luckily John and Mrs. Hudson are there to make it better.

Sherlock was out of town on a case for Mycroft, and John wasn't able to accompany his husband because he had equally important plans. He was chaperoning Rosie's sleepover with her friend Maisie. Rosie, now eight, had planned with her friend an outdoor overnight complete with a tent, sleeping bags, making smores, playing games, and telling stories. They would be up on the roof of 221 B. John would check in from time to time using walkie-talkies Greg had gotten Rosie for her birthday. It was going to be a fun evening.

Then the storms rolled in. Fierce, unmovable ones with loud thunder, crackling lightning, torrential rain, and even hail. Rosie Watson-Holmes was not a happy girl at all, and when she tearfully was about to call Maisie to say they couldn't have their sleepover, John came up with an idea that mollified both girls.

"Let's just move your sleepover inside the flat. We can use my old room. We can create a fort with the bedding, we can still make smores, you can still do all the things you planned to do, just indoors. And another time, you can have another sleepover on the roof."

Rosie and Maisie were happy once again, and John was happy he was able to placate the kids. But he needed one more person to make this night extra special. So he went over to Mrs. Hudson's to explain the situation and asked if she could make some special treats for the girls since their outdoor plans got rained out.

"I have a better idea John," Mrs. Hudson said. "How about the girls help me make the special treats?"

******

Half an hour later, two enthusiastic little girls and Mrs. Hudson were in her kitchen making snickerdoodles. The homey smell of cinnamon filled the cozy flat and John, who was offering his services as dishwasher, had to admit he couldn't wait to try one of the cookies. "Smells delicious ladies," he said, grinning at the three.

"They're going to taste even better, right girls?" Mrs. Hudson replied.

"Yeah!" Rosie exclaimed. "This is so much fun Nana."

Mrs. Hudson beamed at the adorable blond. Weeks after Mary passed and John moved back into 221 B with Rosie, he'd come to his landlady and asked if she could be an honorary grandmother. Mrs. Hudson was thrilled but didn't want to be called grandma, grandmother, or granny, she insisted on Nana. "I'm still too young to have 'gran' anywhere near me," she'd told him.

Soon the cookies were done and out of the oven cooling; Mrs. Hudson had poured some apple juice for the girls, and made tea for she and John. The four sipped their drinks, patiently waiting for the cookies to be cool enough to eat. Once the cookies were ready, each person took two and happily munched on the sweet treat.

*****

The storm raged on, and Rosie and Maisie, with John and Mrs. Hudson's help, made smores, which John decided would be eaten tomorrow as he didn't want the girls to have too much sugar. The two campers went to John's old bedroom and made a fort out of pillows, sheets and blankets. The two told scary stories and gossiped about their classmates. They declared that this was the best sleepover ever, before hugging John and Mrs. Hudson and promptly falling asleep.

Mrs. Hudson had retired to her flat for her nightly herbal soother and to watch the late news; John was in his snuggled under a blanket nursing a second cup of tea, with the TV on as background noise. The thunder and lightning had subsided but heavy rain was still pouring over London.

John heard a familiar set of footsteps climbing the seventeen steps to the flat and he smiled, burrowing further into the blanket. The door opened, and it was his tall, gorgeous husband, who removed his Belstaff, shaking it out and hanging it up on the coat rack by the door. Sherlock saw John on the sofa and grinned, he knew it had been a successful night with Rosie and her friend. He walked over, and bent down to kiss him.

"Hi love, how was the case. No, don't tell me, it was tedious since Mycroft sent you," John said, reaching up to ruffle his husband's damp curls.

Sherlock chuckled. "It was actually a bit interesting. I rate it a six out of ten. I busted an art forgery ring that was stealing valuable paintings from a museum. The receptionist was the mastermind, smuggling them by hiding them as outgoing mail. Ingenious if you think about it."

"Was he or she a disgruntled employee doing it for revenge?" John asked, sitting up to make room for Sherlock, who sat down and pulled John close to him.

"Yes John, bravo. She was having a secret affair with the museum owner and thought he would promote her to manager. Instead, he ended the relationship and gave the job to his nephew. She became enraged and manipulated an ex-boyfriend, a failed painter, into making fakes. They would steal the paintings after closing time and and replace them with the phonies."

"What was Mycroft's role in all of this?" John asked, puzzled.

"Turns out the museum manager was Mycroft's old roommate at Eaton, and Mycroft wanted to do a favor, imagine that." Sherlock snorted and shook his head.

"Hmm, I think sentiment has affected him too, thanks to Greg," John answered coyly.

Sherlock huffed. "Why Greg is even interested in that fat git is beyond me."

John laughed. "Well, the Holmes boys are extremely irresistible. It may take us a while to realize it, but once we do, there's no turning back." He pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock couldn't help but grin. "Enough about Mycroft, tell me about your evening."

So John did, as the two cuddled with each other, the rain continuing to fall into the night.


	12. Not So Sunny in the Sunshine State

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys are in Florida at their beach house (mentioned in Chapter 6)

Sherlock watched John do laps in the pool as he lounged in his comfortable chair, a Long Island Iced Tea on the table at his side. The two had flown to Miami Beach, Florida to spend some time in their beach house that was bequeathed to them by Mrs. Hudson, to get away from the cold and the dreary London weather. The husbands had no idea that the house was actually a huge, gorgeous mansion right on the water, with seven bedrooms and nine bathrooms, offering every luxury the two could dream of.

The estate even had its own cleaning crew, that came in once a week to make sure the home was spotless. John thought he'd died and gone to heaven, and Sherlock was happy to have a place that was far away from Mycroft's meddling, with enough rooms for his choosing for solitary time if he needed it, although he preferred to be with John. 

Tired of watching his spouse, he left his chair and jumped in, grateful the pool was heated. He let his body get used to the water, then he pushed his curls away from his forehead, eyes searching for John. He saw him at the other end, waving and smiling. Sherlock immediately swam to him, wrapping his long arms and legs around him, greeting him with a passionate kiss.

The two swam, played, and kissed for a while, then they got out, toweling themselves off. The sky had turned a dark gray, and thunder rumbled in the distance. They both knew Florida could bring sudden storms, so they headed indoors.

"How about I run us a nice warm bath. You fetch some wine, and I'll light some candles," John suggested with a sly grin.

"Yes," Sherlock replied with a vigorous nod.

******

Outside, a thunderstorm raged, but inside, Sherlock and John were enjoying a romantic bath. John lay back against Sherlock's chest, Sherlock's arms wrapped around his blogger. The only source of light was the candles that sat on a shelf above, casting a dreamy glow. 

"I could stay here forever," John murmured.

"Me too, but we'd be drier than a couple of prunes," Sherlock said with a chuckle. "Let's get out and have a nap before dinner. Do you want to stay here and eat or go out?"

A very loud crackle of thunder answered for John. "Uh, I think Mother Nature wants us to stay in. I don't feel like getting dressed and dodging sheets of rain to go to a restaurant. How about takeaway?"

Sherlock chuckled again. "Sounds good to me."

The two reluctantly got out, dried themselves, stepped into their dressing gowns, and headed for their king size bed. John sighed as he got in, reveling in the feel of soft sheets and a clean linen scent. "It can't get any better than this." He kissed Sherlock softly. "This house is like something out of a dream. I'm sorry that it held so many unhappy memories for Mrs. Hudson, but we can make happy memories here for us, and we can let her know how much fun we've had here. That this lovely home won't go to waste."

"I've already sent her some pictures. She was delighted that we're having a wonderful time. She said it was one of the best decisions she ever made," Sherlock answered, taking John into his arms.

"Oh Sherlock, that's lovely. Did anyone ever tell you how sweet you are?"

Sherlock snorted. "Only you."

John took Sherlock's hand and kissed it softly. "Well, you are. I love you so much Sherlock Watson-Holmes."

"And I you, John Watson-Holmes."

Even though the weather wasn't so sunny the rest of their vacation, the detective and the doctor didn't care. They were together, they were happy, and that's all that mattered. They weathered so many personal storms, actual storms were like cakewalks to them. 


	13. After the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys enjoy quiet time with each other after hosting a party, and they dance with each other. This is a spinoff of Chapter Two, where Molly and Greg had recently started dating in that story, and it's now a year later.
> 
> This chapter was written for a prompt on a Johnlock writers' Facebook group to use the song "The First Time I Ever Saw Your Face" in a story. I decided to add it as chapter to this series.

Sherlock and John waved off the last of the guests, wishing them a safe trip home, and then they each let out a long sigh. Sherlock quickly shut the door and wrapped his long arms around his spouse. "Finally, peace and quiet, just the two of us, how it's meant to be." He bent down and soundly kissed his blogger.

After their lips parted John chuckled. "It was a nice party though. I've never seen Greg and Molly so happy."

The DI and the pathologist were getting married and Sherlock and John hosted a small engagement party for them with Mike, Mrs. Hudson, Sally, her boyfriend, Greg's sister, and his parents and Molly's parents attending. Mycroft had been invited but work took him out of the country and he was in Ireland, but he had wished Greg and Molly well before leaving.

Angelo had provided baked ziti, breadsticks, and salad for free. Everyone had a good time and talked about how they were looking forward to the upcoming wedding. Greg and Molly had chosen a small country church outside of London for the nuptials, with a reception to follow at the church hall next door. The church was close to Molly's parents' home. Sherlock would be Greg's best man, and John was to be Molly's "man of honor." Lestrade's teenage children were going to be bridesmaid and ringbearer respectively, and Rosie was going to be the flower girl.

"I must admit I enjoyed myself John. Especially now that Sally has a boyfriend that is not married and not incompetent," Sherlock teased.

"You berk," John replied playfully. "Hey, how about some tea?"

"Tea sounds lovely." Sherlock kissed John again and the doctor headed for the kitchen. John turned on the radio that sat on the counter and began to prepare their drinks, filling the teapot with water to boil, getting out their favorite mugs, and a box of Earl Grey. A new song started to play. John recognized it instantly. It was "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" by Roberta Flack. He began to hum the bars of the song.

Seconds later, he felt strong arms wrap around his stomach, and a warm breath at his neck. "Dance with me John," a deep, seductive baritone murmured into his ear.

John shivered slightly and turned to face his husband. "You sure? You know how bad I am at slow dancing..."

"I think it's time for a refresher course, don't you?" Sherlock said, eyes filled with want.

John simply nodded and let the detective lead him into the living room. He put his arms around Sherlock and the two slowly began to sway to the music. 

_The first time ever I kissed your mouth_  
_I felt the earth move in my hand_  
_Like the trembling heart of a captive bird_  
_That was there at my command my love..._

Just then, it began to rain. A gentle shower fell down into the streets below from the dark winter sky. Sherlock and John continued to dance, entwined with each other, sharing soft kisses.

The tea kettle sang out that the water was to a boil, but neither man moved to get it. John had his head on Sherlock's shoulder as the song wound down to its close.

_And the first time, ever I lay with you_  
_I felt your heart so close to mine_  
_And I knew our joy_  
_Would fill the earth_  
_And last, til the end of time_  
_My Love_  
_And last, 'til the end of time_  
_My love_  
  
_The first time, ever I saw_  
_Your face_  
_Your face_  
_Your fa-ace_  
_Your face..._

The song ended. John gazed up at Sherlock with loving eyes. "I'll never forget the first time I saw your face at Saint Bart's. I'd never seen anyone that looked so striking and posh. I thought you were a right nutter for asking me to look at your flat, but it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. I'll never regret saying yes."

Sherlock smiled and responded to John's words with a tender kiss. "The first time I saw your face, I knew. I knew that you were the one. Up until that moment no one had ever sparked such interest in me like you did. "

John kissed his genius back. "I love you. Now how about I fix our tea and bring it into the bedroom where you can speak more loving things to me. Preferably while clothes-free." 

Sherlock let out a soft laugh. Brilliant plan my conductor of light. And I love you too."

By the time the two lovebirds retreated to the bedroom, the gentle shower had turned into crisp white snowflakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" is a 1957 folk song written by British political singer/songwriter Ewan MacColl for Peggy Seeger, who later became his wife. At the time, the couple were lovers, although MacColl was still married to his second wife, Jean Newlove. Seeger sang the song when the duo performed in folk clubs around Britain. During the 1960s, it was recorded by various folk singers and became a major international hit for Roberta Flack in 1972, winning Grammy Awards for Record of the Year and Song of the Year. Billboard ranked it as the number one Hot 100 single of the year. Thanks Wikipedia!


	14. Just Another Manic (and Rainy) Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mondays at the clinic are usually pretty quiet, but not this Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a spinoff of Chapter 3, where John decided to go part-time at the clinic.

John wasn't supposed to work Mondays at the clinic, he only worked Tuesdays and Thursdays from nine am to two pm. But one of the GP's, Dennis, had come down with the nasty stomach bug that had been going around the neighborhood and John agreed to cover his shift. He wouldn't have to come back until his scheduled Thursday, so he would have two days off in a row during the week for which he was grateful for. He had somehow managed to avoid getting sick and hoped it would stay that way.

Dennis worked eight to three so John would be home before four, and he would have some time to start dinner before Sherlock got home. His husband was at the library researching toxins for a serial poisoning case he was working on. John wasn't needed there with him so going to the clinic was a better alternative than staying home and being bored by himself. And Mondays were pretty quiet. Nobody really wanted to come in on a Monday for a doctor's appointment unless they were really sick.

It was eleven in the morning, and John had just finished a visit with a mom and her nine year-old son, who was in the early stages of bronchitis. John had prescribed cough syrup and antibiotics and told both of them to get plenty of rest. He was entering his notes into the patient's file and enjoying a warm cup of tea (it was elevenses after all) when his office phone rang. Noticing it came from the front desk, he immediately picked it up. "Hey Valerie," he warmly greeted.

"John, they're evacuating the building. Now stay calm, but a bomb threat was called in upstairs to the law office. Police and the bomb squad are on the way. We've been instructed to go to the coffee shop across the street for safety," the receptionist said firmly, trying to keep her cool.

"You got it. I'm on my way out now." John closed his laptop, grabbed his jacket and quickly left the room. On the outside he was normal, as he'd dealt with bombs in Afghanistan, but inside, he felt a little nervous and hoped everyone would make it out okay. He stepped outside and got hit immediately with rain. He silently gave thanks that his jacket had a hood and he put it over his head, zipping up the front.

He walked over to Valerie, Lucy, and Jordan, the new GP that had taken over his old shift. The others were standing over the coffee shop's awning. A small crowd of onlookers had already formed, no doubt wanting to see the mass exodus of the office building. John could hear sirens in the distance. "I don't know about you, but I'm going inside and getting out of this rain. The weather definitely cooled off since this morning," John said.

The others nodded and followed John inside. The restaurant was warm. John took off his jacket and slid inside a booth next to a window that had a good view of the street. Valerie sat next to him with Lucy and Jordan on the other side. There were a few people inside, but they were more interested in what was going on outside, heads turned to the windows and front door. A waitress came over to John and his co-workers.

"You lot from that office building? What happened, was there a gas leak?" she asked. Valerie shook her head. "Bomb threat got called into the law office on the second floor."

The waitresses' eyes widened with shock. "No way! But then again, I shouldn't be surprised. I heard from one of the paralegals that works in there that one of the firm partners apparently got involved with one of his clients and it caused a lot of grief because he's married." She bent down, a conspiratorial look on her face. "The lawyer and his alleged girlfriend suddenly got sick last week and had to go to A&E. Doctor said it was food poisoning, but the paralegal said the couple thinks they were poisoned because they got sick after drinking some wine, and they sent the bottle to get tested at a lab somewhere. And the receptionist got sick too after eating some chocolates that were delivered to the office a few days later. Her illness was blamed on a stomach virus."

Something sparked in John's brain, like a match being struck. The serial poisoner case Sherlock was working on, although he didn't mention a law firm, the poisonings were traced to a volunteer group of socialites that met in another office building that was just a few blocks away from the building he worked at. It was just a hunch, a very wild one at that, but he decided to let Sherlock know as well as inform him about the bomb threat. He pulled out his phone and began to text, but saw he had several texts from Sherlock.

_John, I heard about the bomb threat while listening to the police scanner app on my phone. Are you ok? - SH_

_John, I'm worried. Please reply. -SH_

_JOHN. -SH_

He began to quickly type. _I'm fine. My co-workers and I are at the coffee shop across the street. Police and bomb squad just arrived. Sorry, I didn't hear the text notification sound. Our waitress told us that one of the firm partners had to go to A &E last week due to sudden stomach pains along with a woman that he may be having an affair with, and the receptionist got sick after eating candy that was sent to the office. Partner thinks the wine bottle he and alleged mistress drank from was poisoned and sent it to a lab for testing. _

_You may want to see if there's a link between these incidents and the poisonings in the socialite group. Maybe one of those ladies is the lawyer's wife and is doing serial poisonings to cover up her real target, the suspected cheating husband and mistress. I know it's a very wild theory but the law office and socialite group are only a few blocks from each other. Love you._

Less than a minute later Sherlock replied. _No, not wild, it actually sounds very plausible. I didn't know about the law office, and it makes sense with the bomb threat. You're brilliant. -SH_

_I'm also glad you're safe, and I love you too. Still at the library. I believe the poison used was thallium but I need to run some tests to be sure. Keep me informed about the bomb threat. - SH_

John texted back that he would and that Sherlock was more brilliant. He put his phone on the table.

"John, we've ordered. I tried to call you but you were engrossed with your phone. Who are you texting?" Valerie asked, handing John a menu.

He blushed slightly. "Sorry. Sherlock had texted me, he was worried. He heard about the bomb threat on his police scanner app. He's also working on those serial poisonings that have been in the news, and I told him about a hunch that those poisonings might be connected with the suspected poisonings at the law office."

"Crazy," Jordan murmured. "You think that bomb threat is connected too?"

John nodded. "I do, but we have to see how it plays out. He quickly scanned the menu. "I'll have the grilled cheese and tomato sandwich with chips and a cup of tea please."

The waitress wrote down the order. "You got it. I'll be right back with your drinks."

"Eat and drink slowly everyone, it's going to be a long afternoon," Lucy remarked.

*****

The bomb squad had found a suspicious pail in the back of the building, in a corner that was designated for smokers. It was a standard lunch pail, black, that had a white skull and crossbones sticker on it. When it was carefully opened, a stick of dynamite was inside, a clock tied to it, but they determined it was fake. After checking the inside, it was deemed safe to return. However, the law firm decided to close for the day and sent everyone home. The clinic's office manager also decided to close, but not before appointments were rescheduled and the rooms cleaned and sterilized. 

John, Valerie, Lucy, and Jordan bid each other goodbye. John was even more grateful he didn't have to come back until Thursday. He decided to catch a taxi for home instead of going on the tube as it was still raining and he didn't feel like walking to the station. By the time he got to Baker Street, it was three-thirty. Once he was inside, he got out of his wet jacket, took off his shoes, changed into a well-worn and comfy pair of jeans, and maroon waffle knit shirt. He went into the kitchen cabinet, reaching for the bottle of Macallan scotch that Mycroft had gifted he and Sherlock for Christmas. They only drank it for special occasions, but John decided surviving a bomb scare was a good enough reason to indulge in a little bit of expensive booze.

He poured two fingers and sat down in his chair, slowly sipping and savoring the fine spirit. He looked out the window, and he could see it was raining even harder, the water streaming down the glass. He hoped Sherlock either was still at the library or warm and dry in a taxi somewhere.

Ninety minutes later, John was dozing peacefully in his chair when his phone rang, a soundbite of Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D Minor breaking the calm silence. He immediately woke up, gathering his bearings. It was Sherlock, and it must be important because Sherlock rarely called, preferring to text. John quickly pulled the phone out of his pocket. "Hi love," he said sleepily.

"John, you sound tired? Are you okay?" Sherlock asked, worry creeping into his voice.

"Oh yeah. I'm back at the flat. The office manager decided to send us home after the bomb squad gave the all clear. I fell asleep waiting for you." John shifted to sit up straight. "I guess you heard the bomb was a fake."

"I did, and the reason I called is that your wild hunch turned out to be right," Sherlock replied proudly.

John stood up, getting excited. "What? Seriously? Wow!"

"I explained to Lestrade your theory that the serial poisonings and the incidents at the law firm might be connected, and to investigate the wife of the lawyer that fell ill. Lestrade, Donovan, and some officers went to the couple's home. They found the wife trying to sneak out the back door with luggage and a plane ticket to Toronto, and she was arrested. She's currently being interrogated at the Yard."

John let out a whistle. "I still can't believe this. I wonder what tipped her off."

"Police reported they found a single fingerprint on the fake bomb. There was a special report on the TV news about it. She must have saw it and freaked, thinking they'd trace the fingerprint back to her," Sherlock explained." 

"That's kind of reactionary, especially if she's never committed any crime, her fingerprints wouldn't be on file. But good thing she acted like she did, and now she's in custody," John replied.

"Never guess how humans will behave John," Sherlock teased.

John laughed. "That's rich coming from you since you always say humans are extremely predictable," John teased back.

Sherlock chuckled. "I know, you got me there. Anyway, I'm leaving the Yard. How about some Thai takeaway for dinner?"

"Sounds great. I'll be waiting. I love you, and try not to get too wet."

"There's a taxi already out front. I'll be home soon. I love you, and I'm glad you're safe. Oh, and the tests on the poison they found on that wine bottle, it turned out to be thallium. Molly was able to find out, she's got a friend at the lab the bottle was sent to who provided her with the results."

"I'm sure the employees at the law firm will be relieved once they find out. So many people getting hurt because of a woman's anger...and getting innocent people sick because of an adulterous affair they weren't even part of," John said sadly.

"If she had just targeted her husband and mistress, she may have gotten sympathy, but I suspect she'll serve quite a bit of time for the other victims," Sherlock deduced. "I'm getting in the taxi now, I'll be home in a bit. And keep that scotch out, I'll want two fingers of it myself."

John shook his head. "How did you know...oh never mind. I'll have your glass ready. "Bye love."

"Bye John. See you soon."

John hung and let out a chuckle. Sherlock never failed to surprise him, and he loved that about his husband.

Seconds later there was a knock on the door and a "Yoo-hoo!" from Mrs. Hudson. John let her in, and she was carrying a tray of chocolate chip scones. "I've been tuned into the news all afternoon and I've been so worried, I started baking. I brought some scones over, I thought maybe we'd have a few while you tell me everything that happened." 

John took the tray and kissed his landlady on the cheek. "Well Mrs. Hudson, like the song says it was just another manic Monday," he joked, before sitting down and proceeding to tell her all about his day that should have been quiet but turned out to be anything but.  
  



	15. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John plays good Samaritan and it lands him in the hospital on a rainy weekend afternoon.

They wanted to keep John overnight for observation, and despite both the doctor and his detective husband's very vocal objections, they were silenced by a six-foot three Amazon of a nurse named Pat who told them John was staying because he had a concussion and his headache was slow to go away, and one night in a hospital bed was not as bad as they thought. She also told them if they continued to whine, John's dinner would consist of the "mystery special soup and tapioca" and she would personally give John a nice, long sponge bath. Sherlock wanted to report her but it turned out the British government himself had called the hospital after learning from Greg what went down, and personally requested Nurse Pat to be assigned to the stubborn blogger. Pat had attended to Anthea after suffering a broken ankle and Anthea had been impressed with her no-nonsense, take-no-bullshit attitude. If anyone could handle a sarcastic deducing detective and a former Army Captain, it was her.

After Pat left, John turned to Sherlock and shook his head. "Damn, I would not want to have her for a superior in the Army."

"She's good, I'll give her that," Sherlock murmured, still a little annoyed at Pat's "I've already been told about you reducing hospital staff to tears with your so-called deductions, so you can stick them where the sun don't shine" speech as soon as Sherlock entered John's hospital room. The genius had met his match. "I'd rather have Donovan and Anderson in here than her."

John couldn't help but laugh. "Well, at least she said it was okay for you to bring Angelo's in here. I've been craving some chicken parm all day."

"John, promise me you won't chase down a purse snatcher ever again," Sherlock pleaded.

"I won't, unless he's skinny and short," John replied with a wink.

Sherlock shook his head. "The thief had a build of The Incredible Hulk, I'm surprised you ended up with only a concussion. I can't believe he ended up much worse."

"Well love, he may have looked like The Incredible Hulk but he surely didn't fight like him. It was easy to dislocate his shoulder and sock him right in the jaw. And I got back that sweet old lady's purse, so if all I got was a concussion and Nurse Ratched for a caretaker, I think I got the better of it." John gently took Sherlock's hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it. "Now how about getting me that chicken parm."

"But John it's pouring outside," Sherlock whined.

"You'll be okay. Mycroft is sending a car. It should be in here in oh," John glanced up at the clock on the wall, "five minutes."

The detective glared at his husband but there was no heat in it. "You berk, you planned that!"

John giggled. "That I did love. But look on the bright side, Mycroft won't be in the car."

Sherlock could only grin and lean in to kiss his blogger. "That definitely is a bright side. I'll be back shortly." He put on his Belstaff, and with a wink, headed out the door to get his beloved chicken parm and a slice of pizza and a canoli for himself. 

Nurse Pat entered a few moments later. "I guess he's getting your dinner huh?"

"Yep," John answered, popping the p. "Thank you for that."

"No problem. The food here is pretty much crap. And I can't begrudge you as you did catch a purse snatcher and prevented an innocent old woman from being hurt even more." Pat smiled coyly at John. "Mum by the way says thank you."

John's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "You can't be serious. That was your mum?"

Pat nodded. "She's very grateful you saved her poker winnings."

John laughed. "Can I ask the amount of those winnings?"

"One hundred seventy-five quid," Pat told him.

John whistled. "Wow, that's quite a prize." Suddenly a bout of pain sliced through his forehead and he grabbed it, eyes squinting. "Damn, that hurt." He looked up her apologetically. "Guess you know what you're doing after all."

Pat chuckled. "I would think so. Been in the business twenty years. I've dealt with a few doctors as patients over the years and they are the absolute worst."

John couldn't help but blush. "We are the worst," he admitted.

"I'll get you a pain pill for your head. Be right back." 

As Pat left, John looked out the window. All he could see was blurred circles of light through the rain. It was actually very pretty. He leaned back in bed and closed his eyes, the pain slowly starting to subside. Things could have been much worse, but he was lucky. He'd be going home tomorrow, he could properly rest, and he had Sherlock to care for him. He couldn't help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PatPrecieux, hope you enjoy a character being named after you!


	16. A Happy, Rainy Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John turn heads at the campus Halloween party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back to the boys as university students.

"Sherlock love, you're going to mess up my makeup if you don't keep your hands and lips off of me!" John playfully complained as he tried to fend off his grabby boyfriend. "Besides, I should be pawing you, no pun intended. You look hot as hell."

Sherlock chuckled as he pressed a kiss to John's crazily dyed hair. "I think both of us are hot and we're certainly going to to turns heads tonight. Good thing we're together, or I would be a very jealous cat at the thought of everyone ogling you."

It was Halloween, and St. Bart's was throwing their annual costume bash at the Student Center. This year, the student union teamed up with the LGBTQIA+ club to host the party and the theme was genderbending. Attendees were encouraged to dress up as a genderbend version of a movie, comic, tv show, or book character. John decided to be a male Harley Quinn and Sherlock was Catman instead of Catwoman. John's friends Molly, Mary, and Janine helped him with his outfit. He had decided to be the Suicide Squad Harley after finding artwork online and together the four designed his costume.

Sherlock already had a pair of black leather trousers and a form-fitting long-sleeve black shirt for his costume. All he needed was some cat ears, a tail, and a mask. He completed his look with black combat boots and black lace fingerless gloves. He'd painted his nails black after turning down John's suggestion of wearing fake black nails, he said he couldn't pick anything up with them and was afraid they'd fall off.

John accepted one last kiss from Sherlock on his neck before he gently pushed him away. "That's enough. We can do much more after we get back home from the party yeah?" He winked at Sherlock. "I'll be Daddy's Little Monster for real then."

Sherlock shivered and felt his neither regions stiffen. "I'm going to hold you to that," he murmured darkly.

******

The rain started just after Sherlock and John entered the student union, which was decorated to the hilt in Halloween goodness with glow in the dark spider webs, carved pumpkins lit up thanks to battery operated candles on the center of each table, surrounded by black and and purple netting. Horror movie posters hung on the walls, fake skeletons were suspended from the ceiling, and an assortment of cutouts were placed in various places. A large buffet table with lots of food and goodies was at the back, along with two large cauldrons filled with punch. The DJ booth was set up on the right side and instrumental electronic music was playing from two large speakers mounted on either side of the table.

"They went all out," John remarked, looking around. 

Before Sherlock could reply, Molly came running up to them, all smiles. "Hey you two! You both look amazing!"

"So do you," John said, grinning back at her. Molly was a female Indiana Jones, with a fedora on her head and wearing a brown jacket, tan shirt, and brown skirt with brown lace up boots. "We saved you two seats at our table. Mary, Janine, Greg, Mike, Irene, and Kate are already there.

"Thanks Molly," Sherlock said. He wasn't much for mingling and was glad he was going to be with his small group of friends. He and John followed Molly close to the back of the hall. While they were about to meet the group, someone let out a loud whistle towards the boys. John and Sherlock looked up to see Jim Moriarty, a small dark haired boy dressed as male Black Widow, leering at John, who just rolled his eyes. "Sebastian isn't going to like that," he murmured to Sherlock. Sure enough, Jim's boyfriend, Sebastian Moran, dressed as Red Widow, stormed over, and grabbed Jim by the hand, dragging him off. "Told ya," John said, laughing.

"Good thing Sebastian came, or it would have been me confronting Jim," Sherlock replied with a frown.

"Oh well, let's forget about those two. We're here for fun." John squeezed Sherlock's hand, and the taller boy instantly relaxed.

******

The chemistry genius and the rugby player made for a sexy pair on the dance floor, with Sherlock swaying his lanky frame seductively wrapped around John, whose bump and grind got many appreciative looks from both men and women. And it was no surprise that John won first prize in the costume contest. He was definitely the hit of the night. Sherlock was proud of his boyfriend. John really didn't appreciate how gorgeous he really was.

After John collected his prize, which was a gift certificate to a local pub, Sherlock was more than ready to leave the party and go back to their dorm. John had made a promise of some good loving, and he was ready to collect on that promise. 

John could tell Sherlock wanted to go, so he bid his friends goodnight, took Sherlock's hand, and they left the student center. It was pouring rain, and John started to make a dash for their dorm. But suddenly he felt two hands push him down into the wet grass, and he was turned over to face Sherlock, who had a randy grin on his face. 

"Sherlock, let's go home! It's raining cats and dogs and my face paint is starting to wash away!" John exclaimed.

"Don't care," Sherlock muttered as he leaned down for a passionate kiss.

By the time Sherlock was ready to get up, both boys were soaked to the skin. "You berk," John teased, shaking out his wet hair. "You'll need pliers to get those leather trousers off."

"No I won't. I have a very strong rugby player that can easily remove them." Sherlock smirked at him. "After all, you did say you we're going to play Daddy's Little Monster, and I think a monster will have no trouble with a simple pair of leather slacks." He winked and started sauntering away, although a little crooked due to rain-soaked leather.

John just laughed as he ran to catch up with his taller love, having thoroughly enjoyed this wet, but happy Halloween night.

Inspirations for Sherlock & John's costumes (all credit to the artists):


	17. Petrichor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys enjoy the smell of rain. A short and sweet fic.

They were sitting on the front porch of Sherlock's parents' Sussex seaside cottage, watching the rough surf crash against the rocks as the rain fell down from a gray sky filled with fast moving, swirling dark clouds, each enjoying a cup of tea brewed by John. It was a warm early afternoon and John would soon be going inside to make lunch. They had no plans today except to stay at their retreat and enjoy each other's company. Their last case back in London was a long and dangerous one which brought both of them to the ER with stab wounds. It was enough for Sherlock to announce he and John were taking a month-long holiday and for Lestrade not to contact them unless it was for social calls.

John had only been to Sussex once to attend the wedding of a family friend when he was a teenager. At the time he found the town quite boring. Now at forty-two, after living in London and being exposed to the darker sides of the city, being in a quiet "boring" town was a luxury and one he wouldn't take for granted again.

Sherlock reached out to cover John's free hand with his own. He inhaled deeply and smiled. "Petrichor. One of my favorite scents in the whole world."

John smiled. "The smell of rain. It's lovely, especially when it's falling into fresh country air and not foggy smoggy London."

"Precisely John," Sherlock replied, taking a sip of his tea. John always made the best tea.

John squeezed Sherlock's hand. "You know, seconds ago I was thinking about how I always thought Sussex used to be a boring town back when I was a teenager. Now that I'm older, it's not so boring to me. It's perfect."

"Perfect enough to live here permanently?" Sherlock queried, his blue-green eyes sparkling with hope. "We have the funds and the means to do it. We'd never have to really work again." 

John turned to him. "You're serious? Leave the excitement and bustle of London to retire to the countryside? What would you do to keep yourself occupied?"

"You've seen the apiaries in the back of the cottage. I'd become a full-time beekeeper. I'd harvest honey and sell it at the local farmers' market. It's hard work, but it's fulfilling and I'd never be bored."

John was silent for a few moments as he processed Sherlock's words. He pictured him in a beekeeper's suit, talking to the bees, scooping honey out of a jar with his finger and putting the sweet amber liquid to his full, plush lips...

He grinned at his husband. "You know love, I think you'd be an amazing beekeeper. And I could still blog, maybe write that book I've been saying I'd do for the last couple of years. And I could assist you with the bees. I could definitely be your official taste tester for the honey."

Sherlock laughed, he was so filled with happiness. "Then let's do it. Let's take an early retirement. My parents want to sell this cottage anyway. Mycroft doesn't want it. It's the perfect little place for us."

"It's going to be hard to say goodbye to Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, Mike..." John said with a hint of sadness. 

"I know, but they can always come visit, and vice-versa. We won't be leaving them behind entirely," Sherlock pointed out.

John nodded. "That's true. But I guess it's time to leave the dangerous detecting life behind. I want to enjoy my golden years with you."

Sherlock leaned in for a kiss. When the two parted, they each leaned back in their chair. John sighed contently. "I think I'm going to be spending a lot of time on this porch, especially if it rains, taking in that clean, comforting scent of petrichor. It's just the best. But not as the best as being married to you." He leaned over and kissed Sherlock gently. "Come on you, let's get inside and get some lunch. How does chicken casear salad and iced tea sound?"

"It sounds most excellent. Let's go, my conductor of light. Or in today's case, my conductor of petrichor."


	18. Sniffles & Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween 2020, and this year Sherlock is playing caretaker to a sick John and Rosie.

Sherlock was grateful for the heavy rain that fell from the London sky this Halloween. But it's not like he and John could have taken Rosie trick-or-treating anyway. Due to a spike in Covid cases, going door to door was strongly discouraged by the NHS. The usual big public celebrations were also canceled, along with them the Yard's annual costume bash. Even if Halloween was to be celebrated as usual, little Rosie still couldn't have gone.

_**Yesterday afternoon...** _

Rosie's nursery had been hit with the usual autumn cases of severe colds and respiratory viruses, and Rosie had come down with a very bad head cold. Sherlock and John had kept her home, with the detective caring for the four year-old while John decided to go out and do shopping and run errands since he had Fridays off at the clinic. Little Watson-Holmes was a sleepy, whiny patient, and Sherlock had done everything he could to comfort her, by playing lullabies on his violin, cuddling with her on the couch and watching Disney movies, and reading her stories. Mrs. Hudson had made chicken noodle soup for the two of them, which Sherlock was extremely appreciative for.

It was now three in the afternoon and Rosie was sleeping in her bed in John's old room. Sherlock was resting on the couch, about to succumb to slumber himself when he heard John's footsteps on the stairs. But the gait was different. Sherlock could tell it was more labored. He got up, tied his dressing gown tight around him and walked to the door.

John opened it, and he smiled wanly at Sherlock. "Hi love."

Sherlock frowned at his spouse, a concerned look on his handsome face. "John, you don't look good at all. What's wrong?"

The doctor slowly nodded. "I think I caught Rosie's cold. My head is all stuffy, I ache all over, and I'm so worn down. By the time I left the post office and got to Waitrose I felt so awful, I knew I couldn't manage shopping. So I took a taxi home. Now all I want to do is sleep."

Sherlock bundled him inside, wrapping his arms around the shorter man, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You do that. And I'll get you some water and cold medicine. Rosie's asleep so you don't have to worry about her and if she wakes I'll attend to her. "I'll go out tomorrow and do the shopping."

"You're the best, I love you," John whispered.

"I love you too." Sherlock pressed another kiss to John's hair and John slowly made his way to their bedroom.

*****

Sherlock had spent Friday evening taking care of his husband and their daughter, with both of doing nothing but sleeping, unless Sherlock woke them to give them medicine and fluids. He'd tried to get John to eat some of Mrs. Hudson's soup, but he wasn't hungry and complained of an upset stomach. He did take the antacids Sherlock left for him, and an hour later his stomach had settled down and he went back to sleep. To give John space and comfort, Sherlock went to his lab at 221C. He'd put a futon in there, at John's insistence, to rest between lengthy experiments or case work. He was glad John had made him do it, as he was exhausted. He turned on his nightlight, switched off the overhead lights, and lay down, sighing contently as his head hit the fluffy pillows. It wasn't long before he was headed off to slumberland.

*****

Sherlock awoke at one-thirty in the morning. He forgot for a few seconds that he was in his lab, and after getting himself oriented, he turned on the lights and left the lab headed back to the flat to check on Rosie and John. He first went to his daughter's room, and found John sitting in the rocking chair beside the little girl. He looked up and smiled at Sherlock. "I woke up to use the loo and came to check on her. I gave her medicine, apple juice, and she said she was hungry, so I gave her a few crackers with peanut butter. She just went back to sleep," he said quietly.

Sherlock sat down on the floor by the bed. "I went to the lab to sleep but woke up to see to Rosie and you. How are you feeling?"

"Still like I got hit by a double decker bus, but I was hungry too so I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and made some tea, and took my medicine. I'm getting ready to head back to bed. Want to join me? I'd really like a cuddle from my gorgeous genius."

Sherlock softly chuckled and got up. "I'd love to. As comfortable as the futon is, it's not the same as snuggling with you in our big bed."

John stood up, kissed Rosie, and then kissed Sherlock. "Come on let's go."

*****

_**Back to Halloween night** _

The rain continued to pour, and Sherlock, John, and Rosie were snuggled up together in Sherlock and John's bed. Rosie and John were still feeling poorly, but they were awake, watching "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" on John's laptop. They were each enjoying a pumpkin flavored fairy cake, courtesy of Mrs. Hudson, who went to the local bakery and brought back the sweet treats for her three favorite people. Even though the weather was miserable, Covid was running rampant, and John and Rosie were suffering with awful colds, this Halloween had turned out to be a very good one. They were together, they were safe, warm, dry, and happy. There would always be next year to celebrate. 


	19. Peace, Quiet, Rain, and Bees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back with Sherlock and John as university students. Fall break has arrived and the two have chosen to spend the first week of it on campus. It's raining so they are nice and dry in their dorm just enjoying being with each other.

St. Bart's was virtually a ghost town as the majority of students had gone home for fall break. Sherlock and John however, had decided to stay on campus for the first week to spend time together, before heading back to their families for the second week. 

The weather was warm, rare for November, but it was pouring buckets outside. The two boys were inside their dorm. Sherlock was relaxing on the bed reading a book on beekeeping, listening to classical music on his phone, while John was lying on the couch, talking to his mom. Sherlock could tell from John's facial expressions it was a good conversation.

Several minutes later, John hung up and got off the couch to join Sherlock. He was smiling.

Sherlock took out his earbuds. "Good news from home I take it?"

John nodded and kissed his boyfriend's cheek. "Dad's gallbladder surgery was a success and he's home resting. Harry celebrated one month of sobriety and is dating a girl named Clara she met at an Alcoholics Anonymous retreat. Mom's shepherd pie recipe took first place at the fall bazaar back at my old primary school. She won one hundred-fifty pounds. She's so happy, she's going to use the money for Christmas shopping.

"That is good news," Sherlock said, wrapping an arm around John.

"Definitely. Our family's had such shit luck for such a long time it's nice things are looking up, especially before Christmas. It may actually be nice going back home to celebrate this year."

John snuggled closer to Sherlock. "I'm glad we decided to hang out here this week. "We'll have lots of peace and quiet. Imagine, a week of no Anderson whining about Sally dumping him for Dimmock, no strenuous rugby practices, no boring lectures, no awful pop music being blared in the halls..."

Sherlock lay his book and phone aside and fully embraced his love. "It's going to be paradise John. Today we'll just stay here and order takeaway and relax. Tomorrow is going to be a warm and sunny day, perfect for taking in the new beekeeping exhibit at the Museum of London."

John couldn't help but grin, as Sherlock loved bees and the art of beekeeping. He'd even talked about taking it up as a hobby when he got older. His grandparents kept bees at their villa in France, and Sherlock had helped them as a child during visits there. He fell in love with the miraculous creatures, and honey was one of his favorite sweet treats. The honey at the local shops wouldn't do, so Sherlock's parents would send him jars of the finest honey during their world travels. John had also developed a taste for it too.

"It's also a perfect day to try the new fish & chips stand right across from the museum. Mike and Greg can't stop raving about that place," John added.

Sherlock chuckled. "You and food."

"Hey, I have to keep up my strength for rugby. And you could stand to put on a few stone, and I know you love fish and chips."

Sherlock placated his boyfriend with a gentle kiss on the lips. "Yes I do, and I'll eat some tomorrow, I promise."

John patted Sherlock's stomach. "Good. Speaking of food, where do you want to order from later?"

"How about our usual Chinese? I'm in the mood for some chicken eggrolls," Sherlock replied.

"Sounds good to me. But for now, I just want to snuggle with you while you read me chapters from that book of yours."

Sherlock looked at him sharply. "You're not joking are you John? You want me to read to you?"

John nodded against Sherlock's chest. "Sure. I could do with a nap and I figure your beekeeping book is the just thing to put me to sleep." He looked up at him and smiled teasingly."

Sherlock huffed, but there was no anger behind it. He knew John was just being playful. "You're a right prat you know that?"

John laughed. "Yeah, but I'm your prat and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Sherlock smirked. "I wouldn't either. I love you."

"Love you too." John pressed a kiss to dark soft curls. "So much," he whispered. 

Sherlock picked his book back up and began to read aloud. It wasn't long before his smooth baritone discussing the scientific terms for bees, combined with the rain pounding against the windows, sent John to slumberland. Sherlock gazed down at him, softly laughed, and put the book back on the bed, turning to cuddle John even tighter, closing his eyes. He too was soon fast asleep. 


	20. Marriage and Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a rainy, but lovely, end to Molly and Greg's wedding day.
> 
> This chapter is a spinoff of Chapter Two and Chapter Thirteen.

The April day started off as chilly and sunny, and when Greg and Molly's wedding got underway, the temperature had warmed to a comfortable 61 degrees. It had been a short but sweet and lovely ceremony at St. Margaret's Church in Barking. The structure was a gray stone building that wouldn't look out of place in a medieval fantasy movie. The inside was quaint and elegant, with wooden rafters and whitewashed columns and arches.

Molly looked beautiful in a simple but pretty long sleeved white lace dress, her hair in a glamorous updo, with alternating baby white roses and round crystal clips evenly nestled in her locks. Greg wore a simple but handsome gray suit with white dress shirt and pale yellow tie, a white rose pinned to his lapel. Sherlock and John, who were Greg and Molly's best men respectively, wore the same gray suit and white shirts, but without ties, and yellow carnations pinned to their lapels. Greg's teenage son Justin, the ringbearer, was dressed the same as Sherlock and John. His daughter Julie, the bridesmaid, wore a pale yellow satin tea-length dress with short sleeves and her hair matching Molly's, but with a yellow carnation pinned to the side. And finally, little Rosie, was adorable in a cream sleeveless gown with fluffy tulle skirt and pale yellow ribbon tied around her waist. Her blond hair had been curled into ringlets, and she wore jeweled bee hair clips on each side of her head, courtesy of Sherlock and approved by Molly.

After the ceremony, pictures of the wedding party and Greg and Molly's family were taken outside of the church under the trees, and then it was time for the reception, taking place in the hall.

******

The DJ was playing "Closing Time" by Semisonic, a signal that the wonderful day was winding down. It had also started to rain, and everyone was grateful the weather held off until it was time to go home. It had been a fun reception, with Sherlock and John delivering humorous yet touching best men speeches about their favorite couple, a delicious buffet dinner of fish, chips, salad, bread, and a fruit bowl. Instead of a fancy tiered cake, Greg and Molly had opted for a white sheet cake with a small round cake in the center, decorated in yellow roses with whimsical cake toppers of two cute ginger cats dressed as a bride and groom on the top of the small tier. 

******

Sherlock and John said goodbye to their friends and wished a happy honeymoon for the newlyweds, who were traveling to Tuscany, Italy. The detective and the blogger dodged the raindrops as they headed for their car. Little Rosie was asleep in John's arms, not bothered by the falling water.

John secured Rosie in her car seat, and slid into the passenger side. He and Sherlock exchanged weary smiles as Sherlock started the vehicle. Instead of driving home to Baker Street, the two rented a room at the Lyon House Hotel in town, and would spend the day in Barking before heading back to their flat, making it an extended mini holiday. With Greg on a two-week honeymoon, Sherlock was sure he wouldn't be called for any cases so he and John decided to take their own "honeymoon", with Rosie along for it, by planning some day trips around London and spending their time at home together.

No words had to be said between the two as they made their way to the hotel. John had laid a gentle hand on Sherlock's knee, and Sherlock grinned at his husband. It had been a great day for everyone and he was looking forward to cuddling John in their hotel bed. Hopefully little Miss Watson-Holmes would stay asleep for the rest of the night. Sherlock had made sure to book a room with two beds so Rosie would have her own space.

Sherlock parked in front of the hotel and got out to check in, while John gathered Rosie. The rain had slowed to a drizzle and John was happy for it.

******

By the time the Watson-Holmes family had settled into their cozy room, the rain turned heavier again. Nobody mattered, as everyone was asleep, Sherlock and John cuddled together while Rosie was snuggled under the sheets of her twin bed, dreaming of bees flying around a garden of white roses and yellow carnations, pollinating the blooms to the tune of "Closing Time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so this anthology comes to a close, at 20 chapters - I think this a good place to end. But just in time for Christmas, I will be doing another series, Love and Snow, with different unconnected stories set during the holidays, set to begin December 1st.


End file.
